


Okay

by ziyazu



Series: Werewolves and Macaroni [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sex Explorations, Binging on Sex and Pizza, Blowjobs, Frottage, M/M, More Mac and Cheese, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziyazu/pseuds/ziyazu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of the time they’re just spread out on Stiles’ bed, wearing boxers or nothing, talking or half-heartedly studying or listening to music or giving sloppy blowjobs while they figure out how gag reflexes are supposed to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay

**Author's Note:**

> A porny sequel was suggested and then demanded. This is less strictly porny, however, and really rather more sweet and cheesey. Pun _absolutely_ intended.

It isn’t mind-blowing, most of the time.

Isaac is so leggy he's like a baby horse and Stiles is really clumsy and they’re both really bad at figuring out where their elbows should go, like, all the time. There’s a lot of bumping and cursing and it always seems like they have about 14 extra knees. Stiles has no idea what he’s doing, really, and Isaac sometimes looks at him with wide eyes like he’s scared of how great this is and is sure that in the next moment Stiles will crush him brutally, which, that’s pretty terrifying, but mostly it's fine. Any other two nearly seventeen-year old dudes figuring out sex would have the same issues, he tells himself. It's okay.

Except for how both of them keep sprouting fangs when they come, actually, it's very okay.

Sometimes it’s even epic, sometimes they grab each other after lacrosse and barely make it to the Jeep, barely make it anywhere private, can’t keep their hands off each other long enough to even get their jeans off, wrists strained and knuckles scraped on zippers, instantly healed. Sometimes Stiles will kiss Isaac with fingers tight in his curls and it’s like the first time he did it, in his room, both of them tasting of neon cheese and processed pasta, his new senses whirling as Isaac drew circles in the small of his back, bare skin flushing under his touch. Sometimes after rushed, grasping orgasms they just hold on to each other and breathe, warmth firing through them, locked together tight despite how stupid their limbs feel.

Most of the time it’s not intense and frantic, though. Most of the time they’re just spread out on Stiles’ bed, wearing boxers or nothing, talking or half-heartedly studying or listening to music or giving sloppy blowjobs while they figure out how gag reflexes are supposed to work. Stiles is better at it, though his first attempts are terrible; he’s still not sure he’s got all the come out of his ear.

Isaac is much more adept at rolling them together in the right way, him on top, Stiles urging him on with little puffs on breath on his face, grunts and fingernails that want to be claws, sometimes are claws, eyes that flash amber and whiskey-brown in the sunlight. They’re both human and werewolf and something else as well when they’re together like this, a third, separate thing, bursting and bubbling behind ripped red lips, torn and hungry and somehow sweetly safe.

And, despite lack-of-consent issues in terms of Stiles becoming a hilarious cliché of a nocturnal beastie, there’s a lot to be said for supernatural abilities when it comes to screwing your new boyfriend senseless. For one thing, _amazing_ refractory periods. For another, when they get hungry after four rounds on a Friday night, they don’t end up in food comas no matter how many pizzas they polish off. It’s nice. They can get right back into it without even getting the tomato sauce off their faces. (Neither of them care about getting cheese grease on the sheets, either. Stiles feels like this is a major plus point in the 'dudes' column.)

Stiles still isn’t great at the suddenly-appearing thing, and Isaac is constantly showing off, doing it to freak him out just for the fuck of it, but when Stiles swats at him now he just smiles that slow smile of his, and brushes his thumb along Stiles’ jawline, and Stiles will never tell him, but probably he is kind of falling for that smile.

He still makes them mac and cheese a lot, and they still eat it like they did that first night, hunched over the counter facing each other, spoons jostling and long stares and fingers stroking up arms as they flirt over who has to scrub the pot clean afterwards. Handjobs only get you out of like, three turns at most, Stiles has discovered. 

And if, as they run in the woods together on the full moon - racing each other and tackling Scott and Derek and Cora as they roll through the leaves, smelling the fresh earth beneath them and the wide forest around them - if they sometimes break off from the others and kiss softly against a tree, fingers laced and foreheads brushing as they press close, well, that’s okay too.

Yeah, that’s very okay.


End file.
